


one man's loss is another one's treasure

by immaplane



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Greg to the rescue, M/M, Mycroft gets stood up, that's basically it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immaplane/pseuds/immaplane
Summary: He’s not coming.Well, no, obviously not. He’d known that the minute he stepped foot in this… establishment. It was already unlikely for William to have asked him out on the first place, but to meet at a place like this? No.





	one man's loss is another one's treasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sona007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sona007/gifts).



Mycroft checked his reflection in the glass next to him. Yes, the _curl_ was still doing it. He forced himself to not raise his hand and correct it, overly aware of the gazes of the other occupants of the pub. He sighed and glanced at the clock. 23 minutes past seven.

_He’s not coming._

Well, no, obviously not. He’d known that the minute he stepped foot in this… establishment. It was already unlikely for William to have asked him out on the first place, but to meet at a place like this? No.

Still, Mycroft had found a table in a corner and sat down to wait, telling himself that maybe, there was a chance this was real.

_25 past seven._

It was embarrassment that kept him here for so long. He’d gotten more than a few glances from the other costumers – it wasn’t every day someone showed up here in a suit – especially from a small group of young men his age at the other end of the bar. And it’d be painfully obvious if he left now. So Mycroft stayed seated, checked his reflection, watched the clock and wished desperately he could just disappear.

 

 

Greg and his mates had noticed the other guy the second he opened the door, hell everyone in the pub had noticed him, it was as if a great hush fell over the place when this stranger in a suit walked in.

_Oh, he’s a pretty one._

The stranger flushed, noticing all the attention on him, but to his credit, he shook it off and determinately went to sit at a lone table.

After a few whispered remarks ‘Is he seriously wearing a waistcoat?’ their conversation turned back to a previous topic and they mostly forgot about him.

Mostly, because it was hard for Greg not to sneak a few glances now and then. He was perfectly positioned to look at the man without it being obvious – he hoped – and Greg gladly took advantage of that.

‘Someone’s waiting for a date,’ Dimmock said. It wasn’t hard to see, between fiddling with his hair and looking at the clock, the man was a nervous wreck – a particularly handsome one though.

Anderson snorted, ‘Poor bastard, he’s been stood up and he knows it.’

Greg huffed, not taking his eyes of him, ‘Imaging passing up on someone like that.’ He suddenly grinned and turned to the others, ‘One man’s loss is another one’s treasure, right? Excuse me lads, I’ve got an appointment to keep.’

Ignoring his friends’ laughter he steadily made his way to table. He’d always had a thing for gingers.

 

 

‘They must be mad.’

Mycroft wrenched his head around. A man was standing next to his table.

_How can anyone be that handsome?_

He stared, ‘P-pardon?’

The brown haired man casually sat down in front of him and smiled.

‘Whoever stood you up, clearly they’ve no sense.’

Mycroft blushed, ‘Yes, well, I suspect he thought it rather funny to-‘, he realised what he’d let slip and froze.

The other man’s eyes sparked with satisfaction and he leaned forward.

‘My name’s Greg, and while I can’t say much for my senses, I’ve got enough of them to know what I should do next.’

Mycroft gulped and tried valiantly to gather his wits.

‘What, what would that be?’

Greg smiled flirtatiously and reached forward to take his hand, softly stroking it.

‘Well, gorgeous –‘

Mycroft silently gasped at the name.

‘I’d find out what I should call you, unless you prefer pet names, I can do that to.’

He winked and continued, playing with Mycroft’s fingers.

‘Then I’d ask if I could buy you drink. Of course I’d be hoping you’re just as ready as me to leave this place, but I can be patient. After that not-yet-decided-upon drink we’d get into my car, I’d drive us to my apartment and there I’d, well, I’d do things I really can’t say to a man whose name I don’t even know.’

Greg shot the heavily blushing Mycroft a lazy smile.

‘Mycroft,’ he whispered, ‘my name’s Mycroft.’

‘Well then, Mycroft, can I buy you drink?’ he asked innocently, as if he couldn’t notice the heavy tension between them.

Mycroft shook his head. Greg’s smile turned into a smirk and he pulled him out of his seat.

‘Perfect, let’s go.’


End file.
